In outer space, they say, no one can hear me scream Because of the not-quite vacuum Sound cannot travel there Despite the plasma, the hydrogen, the dark energy. Mal-adapted to outer space, we creatures of air And carbon. Yet made since the first fire Spurred on by cold war To venture out there. To outer space. The non-terrestrial Contains us, and rocks condensed from gas With molten cores. So standing on the surface of Mars, for example, look out and see Horizon. That line between the ground and the pink sky, another sky. Beneath it lie valleys, mountains and caves. In another landscape We see a topography both known and unknown. And so having come so far, we find ourselves some way home.